They raced the comet across the heavens, the Starcatcher going
faster and faster still than he had before. But not fast enough.
The comet pulled further and further ahead, its fiery, flaring
tail sweeping from side to side like the fin of a swift fish,
and at last the Starcatcher gave up and slowed down, laughing
and breathing hard. The comet's tail grew dim, and disappeared
in the distance.

"Oh well, I'll catch him next time," the Starcatcher
said.

Something thumped Emma on the side of her head.

"Ow," she said. Then another something hit her on the
back of the head.

"Ouch," she said. "Is somebody throwing stones at
me?"

"Uh-oh," said the Starcatcher. "It's a meteor shower.
I was too busy racing to see it coming. We'd better get out of
here."

Emma looked up and saw a turbulent horde of tiny streaking
sparks coming toward them. The Starcatcher sped up, but it was
too late to escape. In another moment, they were blown about by
a whistling wind and pelted by hard little balls of fire. The Starcatcher
tried to dodge them, but it was no use. There were too many - it
was like trying to dodge the rain. As he twisted hard to avoid
an especially large meteor, Emma's hands slipped - and she fell
from the Starcatcher's cape!

"Help!" she cried. But her voice was lost in the wind.
She didn't even know if the Starcatcher would see that she was
gone.

She tumbled head over heels, heels over head, down and up and
around, getting tossed and hit from all sides like a leaf in a
gusty, swirling hailstorm.

"Help! Help!" she cried, but there was no one nearby
to hear. It seemed as if she might keep tumbling and tossing and
getting bruised about forever. Finally, she fell out of the storm,
as if it had spit her out, and she fell straight down and down
and down through an icy cold blackness.

"Help! Help!" she cried again. She tried to spread her
arms and legs and fly, but it didn't work at all. She only cartwheeled
over again and fell faster.

Then - swoop - swoosh - the Starcatcher scooped her up in his
arms and she felt herself held securely and flying in one direction
again, smooth and easy.

"Don't worry. I've got you," he said.

"Oh, I was so afraid!" said Emma.

"You didn't need to be," said the Starcatcher. "After
all, if I can catch a falling star, then it's nothing at all to
catch a falling girl."

Emma giggled. "Are you going to put me in your sack?"

"No. You might get lost in there, and I've just now found
you again. Are you hurt?"

"A little. I think I've got bruises all over."

"Maybe you need to rest for a while," said the Starcatcher. "I
know where we should go."

"Where?"

"To the other side of the Evening Star. Hold on tightly this
time, and I'll show you."

Emma often had gazed at the Evening Star from her special little
hill. She knew it well. So she watched for it eagerly now.
But what she saw as they approached it made her draw in her
breath in surprise. From her little hill, the Evening Star looked
like a twinkling diamond, but from here it looked like a swirling
stained glass window of rose and turquoise and saffron and
violet, all the colors distinct and yet swimming together and shimmering
like the surface of a lake when the wind blows.

They flew right into the swirl of colors and through it. It
felt like flying through a waterfall of rainbows. When they
came out on the other side, the Starcatcher landed on a mountain
top with a view that reached as far as Emma's eyes could see
and beyond, in all directions. And what she saw was a land filled
with clouds of every imaginable kind.

"The Evening Star is the entrance to the Cloud Kingdom," the
Starcatcher explained. "This is where all the clouds come
from. Over there," he said, pointing to a group of billowy
white and hazy peach confections, "are the summer day clouds." Ostentatiously
practicing puffs and curls and flourishes, the summer day clouds
looked vain and rather lazy. They were combing themselves into
elaborate and dreamlike shapes of castles and minarets and
angels, and lingering to admire their own abundant, voluptuous
forms.

"Over there are the ones that specialize in sunsets." Emma
saw an elegant, streamlined gathering of crimson, orange and
royal purple clouds, trimmed in gold and midnight blue.

"And there," he continued, "are the storm clouds." The
black giants milled and swelled about restlessly, flexing their
round gray muscles and rumbling in gruff, growling tones. As
Emma watched, one of the storm clouds petulantly tossed a bolt of lightning
at a poor little wisp of fog that had wandered into his path.

"Ouch!" he squeaked - and he hopped, skipped and jumped
quickly out of the way. Emma couldn't help laughing, for he
didn't seem to be hurt much, and she'd never before heard a wisp of fog
make any sound at all.

"I have to get back to work now," said the Starcatcher
to Emma. "Why don't you stay here for a while and rest. I'll
come back for you before too long."

"But I'll be all by myself," said Emma uncertainly.

"The puff clouds will keep you company," he said. "Won't
you, kids?"
A group of friendly-looking puffy little white clouds had gathered
around Emma. They were bouncing softly up and down, looking
at her like curious puppies that wanted to play.